Mirth, Wind, and Purple Fire
by WaddleBuff
Summary: On a night out with her only friends, Syndra reluctantly agrees to talk to a lonely man sitting at the bar. As the night goes on, his advances and his charm begin to remind her of a past she has long since relinquished, and rekindles something inside of her that she never thought she would ever feel again… [Smut]
1. Chapter 1

_**Commission for GlaciesVir907**_

 _ **Cover art by Polkinart**_

* * *

Colorful yet melancholic notes tumble from a keyboard.

Fingers on the white keys were dimmed, the lights on the Reflection Chamber's stage low. The tune is reflective, some notes holding before changing to a chord right before their welcome is outstayed.

There's a quiet din of whispers, of clinking glass, and silverware in the darkness of the tables surrounding it. Nothing else interrupts the progression of the synthesized melody, as if the other elements of the song are standing in awe.

And in the darkest corner of the Chamber, three figures, draped in black, sat in the music's wake.

"Three?"

"Yes, three. It took a little longer than usual…but in the end, it was _more_ than worth the effort."

"Still, Elle," a pale woman said, locks of purple covering one of her eyes. "seducing three Demacian paragons during one of their diplomatic missions…all at once, no less. Even _I'm_ impressed."

"Are your expectations of me that low, Emmie?" the woman in question said.

LeBlanc giggled as she took another sip of the wine.

"Of course not. I just didn't know that anything other than the blood of Noxians could get a paragon's rocks off."

She giggled again, and the raven-haired woman sitting next to her giggled all the same. Across from them, with her arms folded, their friend forced a grin. She reached out to take a sip from her own glass before looking back uninterestedly towards the stage. The rest of the Reflecting Chamber shared a similar vibe as their table. Warm, mellow and generally slow, the activity of the multitiered room was limited to Summoners and Champions leaving to use the lavatory.

Syndra's eyes were bored. Her white hair was done up in a swirl behind her head, stabbed through with two ornate, obsidian hairsticks, matching the shimmering dress that tightly hugged her ample figure. Two long, loose strands of white framed her cheeks.

At this point, the keyboard was joined with the hiss and syncopathic rumble of drums. There was a tension that began to rise now, as if that earlier awe was building into something else. An invitation? A challenge?

"Well, with that aside, I feel like I don't need to share _my_ exploits," LeBlanc continued. She was leaning forward on the table, her charcoal one-piece dress seemingly sewed onto her very skin. Her snowlike skin alluringly spilled over the dress' cusp as her breasts threatened to do the same.

Elise, the woman who was almost equally as pale and well-endowed, rolled her eyes.

"Yes, _please_ spare us. Your name in that regard is almost infamous," she said. Her own dress was Ionian in origin. Something she thought might impress their new friend whose attention was still noticeable focused on the band instead of their banter.

"You're implying I'm a slut?"

"No, I'm implying you're a famous one."

Another small duet of giggles, another sip of wine.

And yet again, the woman in the black dress smiled forcefully.

The rising and falling of the drum-induced rhythm continued on and on as the keyboard's improvisations escalated in their esoteric dance. In the mesh of chords and dissonant but simple harmony, the atmosphere felt like something swelled to capacity. Like something was about to burst.

LeBlanc and Elise shared the woman's silence for a few moments. They stripped her with their eyes, letting the music onstage play out as they schemed. The woman still didn't regard them, still sipping with her body turned away from their booth.

The Noxian pair schemed for the most fleeting of minutes, then, they turned to each other. They grinned toothy smiles as electricity sparked between them. They both knew what they wanted to do now.

Elise spoke first.

"So, you're a virgin then, Syndra?"

The Ionian almost spat out her wine.

"Come again?"

She turned to look at the pair of Noxians seated across from her and almost gulped at the looks on their faces. Their eyes had… _that_ look. That mischievous air coupled with those mischievous grins with those mischievous brows cocked. Gods, why did she even hang out with these two? Two bored immortals with a connection deeper than anything that should be healthy.

"You're a virgin," LeBlanc said, matter-of-factly before taking a sip of her wine.

Syndra was aghast.

"I am _not_ ," she said, feeling rosy pink fill her cheeks.

She could feel the two burn into her further.

"Is that so? Then tell us, our little Ionian lotus, why haven't you shared any of _your_ escapades?"

"Maybe because I would rather not stoop down to that level of crudeness, thank you very much. I just assumed being so crass was typical of Noxian custom," Syndra said, huffing.

LeBlanc and Elise were obviously not buying it.

"Of course, of course…but we're your friends, aren't we? This isn't a…formal dinner. For gods' sake, Syndra, it's our night out. It's time to loosen up for once in our horrible, cramped little lives," LeBlanc said.

A few strands of silver tripped in front of her eyes and she immediately began to fiddle with them. Silence pervaded between her and the two Noxians boring holes through her skull until finally,

"Okay…I've only done it once," Syndra said, resignedly. She rolled her eyes at saying it the moment the statement left her lips. "It was just a boy in the village. We grew up together and when my power proved too great for the foolish leaders of that place and I had to leave for the temple, we decided to…consummate."

The way Syndra said "consummate" made Elise snort, further reddening the blush on the her cheek.

"There, happy?" she said, crossing her arms once more.

Elise was chortling now, but LeBlanc still had that grin on her face and her eyes were unwaveringly steady.

"Interesting. And why didn't you do it anymore after that? Surely you'd have men throwing themselves at your feet. I mean," LeBlanc said, gesturing up and down Syndra's body with her eyes. With her arms poutedly crossed, her curves pushed out against the fabric constraining them, supple and full. "just look at you."

Something flashed in Syndra's relatively young eyes, and Elise went a little pale (as pale as someone of her complexion could manage, anyway). Syndra didn't see Elise's hand frantically hitting the side of LeBlanc's exposed thigh, a gesture to which LeBlanc responded with a shooing motion of her own. In the span of a second Elise stiffened, as if bracing for something, and LeBlanc leaned forward, eyes sparkling with excitement, as if Syndra was about to deliver the greatest oration in the history of Valoran.

Meanwhile, the saxophone finally entered the fray, and the mounting melody of the keyboard ruptured. A torrent of chords made love and intertwined, as if the saxophone broke out of a reverie and accepted the drums' challenge.

"O-Of course they do!" Syndra said, her voice beginning to grow a little shrill. She suddenly put on this air of confidence that betrayed the redness of her cheeks. Her hands began to gesture wildly as if the grander her sweep of the wrist, the more convincing her argument. "And that's exactly why I don't. Surely you two would know. None are deserving of what _I_ have to offer. Just like my dead master. Just like that village that cast me out." Her eyes were electric, sparking with unmistakable purple, her voice was rising and exaggerated in its intonation. Individual hairs that spilled from her bun subtly rose into the air. As her voice grew louder various cups and any loose objects around her started to shiver.

"Sexual pursuits are too lowly for me. It's merely the secretion of fluids caused by the friction of skin. There is nothing...nothing special about it, you know. I can bend space to my will! I can raze an entire city if I so desired. Indeed, why indulge in such carnal foolishness when I can attain infinite power. The power to control the fabric of the universe itself, the limitless grasp on the cosmos, _INFINITE, INFINITE POWER. LIMITLESS STRE-_ "

Elise very visibly cringed. Thankfully, Syndra's lips were hushed by LeBlanc's finger.

Or rather, the finger of LeBlanc's doppelganger, who stood above the Syndra with the Noxian's signature grin curled on its lips. As if breaking from a reverie, Syndra blinked a few times before settling down. She looked across the table at Elise's grimace and knew she had gotten a little too excited. Again. She realized she had even conjured up two fist-sized orbs of dark matter in her palms, which she quickly vaporized with a flick of her wrists.

LeBlanc's physical apparition followed suit, crumbling into infinitesimal golden dust before fading away completely.

A blush bloomed on Syndra's cheeks as she averted the gaze of her friends.

"Sorry, I-"

"No, no, Syndie...it's okay," LeBlanc said reassuringly, reaching over to stroke Syndra's hand.

Syndra looked up bashfully at the two women, Elise giving her a sort of forgiving smile.

"However," LeBlanc continued, "I think that we can all agree on one thing: we need to get you laid."

Syndra shot her hand back from LeBlanc's. The blush on her cheeks spread, her entire face tinged a deep, deep hue of pink that was almost red.

"E-Excuse me?!"

"It just seems like it's been _much_ too long since you've really let yourself go, darling. You might as well be an actual virgin."

At her side, Elise's features began to take on a likeness similar to LeBlanc's. The two shared another one of their malicious grins, eyes locking knowingly. Syndra was too busy stammering and furiously blushing into her glass of wine to notice.

Onstage, the bass guitar in the shadows finally plucked a cornerstone for the ongoing melody. With that, the spell was cast. The electronic whines of the keyboard kept the wails of the saxophone in check as they dueled, vying for attention while that bassline kept them going, resulting in a song that seemed like a rolling stone, unstoppable.

Syndra finally looked up as she bit her lip. Her eyes began to dart between the two Noxians. She could instantly tell that LeBlanc was being completely serious with her suggestion, so her gaze instead focused onto Elise with a plea. Alas, Elise had that evil grin, and Syndra knew whatever they had planned next, she would be powerless to stop it.

"Emmie does have a point. And maybe once you've bared yourself you can finally stop these ridiculous outbursts every time we go out," Elise said with a lick of her lips.

A nervous chuckle choked out of Syndra's throat.

"N-Not you too, Elise…" she said, totally unconvincingly. She knew Elise had fallen to whatever LeBlanc had silently conveyed to her. Their words were innocent and sympathetic enough, but looking at the two women across from her, goosebumps raised as if she was staring down two serpents, coiled to strike.

"Don't worry, Syndie. Elle and I are here to help!"

Syndra's hands clenched.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Unfortunately for her, the Noxian pair was already in action. They shared hushed, excited whispers, eyes scanning the tiered terraces of the Reflection Chamber like predators singling out the juiciest caribou of a grazing herd.

At this point, Syndra could only sit back and grit her teeth.

Her and her big mouth should have shut up. This wasn't the first time this happened. A sigh passed through her lips. So much control over the power she taught herself, the darkness she's harnessed over the past decade, and yet...almost no restraint in her words. Maybe she really should have descended from her fortress to mingle more. The solitude may have helped her hone her skills, but socially she was as inept as she was before her time at her master's temple.

Those pesky strands of white slanted into her vision again, which she absentmindedly tucked behind her ear as she noticed her glass was empty. She took another quick glance at the Noxians; they were giggling as they pointed out someone in the distance, probably some ill-fitted suitor no doubt. Another sigh and Syndra's finger pressed the dimly-lit refill button on her side of the table. Within seconds, in a small flourish of bubbles and a subtle arcane vortex, her glass was filled again with wine.

There was no getting through to Elise and LeBlanc in this state, she knew that through experience. This wasn't the first time one of their schemes came at Syndra's own expense. Hell, it wasn't the first time they tried to find her a boytoy to have fun with either. How could she have been so stupid, walking into their little trap with every single one of their goads and saccharine inquiries?

No matter.

She'd just scare off the man they'd pick out just like the other five or so men they'd picked out before. A glow of purple flame in her eyes and a dark orb aimed at their throat would do the trick.

In the meantime, Syndra would just have to wait. The two were surprisingly thorough with their selection, the process taking minutes at a time. She appreciated the effort; it really showed that they didn't just want to see Syndra make an utter and complete fool of herself (which, they absolutely reveled in, as evident by the memories of the Noxians doubling over in laughter after she scared off the men they'd chosen with either her deadly power or incredible awkwardness flashed through her mind), and that they actually wanted to see her succeed and grow more socially.

The sentiment brought a rare, warm smile to her lips as she gazed at them, but the moment passed, and her eyes drifted to the stage with wine warmly carpeting her tongue.

Silky notes of the keyboard solo slipped a tangent of nostalgia into her ears, and quickly, Syndra found herself closing her eyes, lips turning into a small frown. Instead of the memories of her previous escapades with her Noxian friends, she thought of the boy from the village.

What she had said to LeBlanc and Elise was true. It really was just a simple tryst, when her hormones were threatening to bubble over the cusp of her youthful desire. A simple tryst with a simple boy.

And all of a sudden, she was there again. Safely hidden from the judging eyes of her village, barred from the world with the vertical sea of green bamboo, the full moon lit the clearing of flattened long grass below her head. Here, she remembers how safe she felt. There weren't any village elders scolding her for standing out, for endangering her neighbors. No neighbors who sneered at her very existence, no jealous girls her age who would pull at her snow-white hair. Instead, she was caged from the world, trapped with the boy who seemed like the only person worth her time.

The boy, whatever his name was, looked down at her with that grin he always had. That subtle flash of white while he tilled the fields and she'd roll past with her bike on the way to the cave where she'd vent, or when he'd be sitting on the steps of his porch of his parent's house, or when he'd cornered her that one night during the festival when he brushed aside some of her hair to tell her she was beautiful.

And now, out of all the times she had seen that grin, the boy looked sad. She hadn't told him that this was her last night in the village. The last night she would probably ever see him again. But she could tell that he had found out somehow. An elder probably told him just to spite her.

If it wasn't for the moon behind his head casting a shadow over his features, Syndra could have sworn there was the glimmer of tears in his eyes. But in the moment, as the warm wind rustled through the forest and brushed over her bare skin, all she truly noticed was how bare his lips looked without hers.

She pulled him down onto her again. A flurry of warmth and hot gasps ensued. She felt his hand caress her thigh, pressing against her skin until she felt his other hand palming her breast.

It was all happening so fast that it took a few moans to realize the boy had stopped kissing her. As she looked up at him now, gulping at the sight of his chest as he ripped off his his shirt, it was her own eyes that she felt began to wetten.

Thankfully before the boy would descend upon her again, his thumb glided over her bottom lip. The motion seemed to instantly calm her excited breaths and anxious quivering.

"You've lost it again."

His voice was a soft tenor. It wasn't the deepest but it definitely reflected his playfulness.

"My...my what?" Syndra whispered.

"Your smile, idiot," he said. Syndra blushed and was tempted to pout if it wasn't for the fact that his fingers had found that heated crevice between her legs, making her arch of the ground in a breathless gasp.

He was pressed against her lips again. One whimper later and she was left panting. It was all happening so quickly, but right now, she was just glad that the glimmer of his pupils was there to comfort her before they went any further.

"Jeez, Syn...you lose it so often."

Despite herself, her lips curled into a grin.

She didn't say anything. Nor did she need to as the boy let her arms embrace him.

"There we go. Thank gods I was here," he said, whispering now. He was so close, a hair's width away, every single word from him soaking into her own lips. "If I wasn't, who else would have-"

"Found it!"

The pillow of grass behind her head receded, the bamboo walls crumbled into stone. She wasn't bare and embraced by the boy's warmth anymore, although the air conditioning left an artificial chill on her uncovered arms. She opened her eyes and that nostalgic tune in her ear led itself back onstage. Opening her eyes Syndra was back in the present, leg crossed over the other, her hand gripping a tad bit too tightly on her wine glass.

She blinked and looked over at her friends. Both of them were grinning triumphantly, eyes focused on her.

"Found...what?"

"Your target," Elise said after a victorious sip of her alcohol.

Syndra blinked again. Usually the two would snicker a little, give each other that look they always gave each other, maybe even whisper something with a giggle. But now...they were acting a little different. As if this was _the_ man that would finally win over Syndra (or vice-versa).

Skeptical, she narrowed her eyes, sipping a little more on her wine.

"Okay...show me."

"Gladly," LeBlanc said. "I'm actually chatting with him as we speak."

With a little nod of her head, she directed Syndra's gaze to the Reflection Chamber bar a few paces to their right. Just as LeBlanc said, she was poised on a bar stool, casually shooting the breeze with the "target". Her doppelganger's finger was teasingly circling a glass of whiskey.

The man in the stool next to him reciprocated her advances. At her angle, Syndra could see the lines around his eyes bunching up together from a grin. From the back he seemed gruff, much less refined than previous choices for sure. Interestingly enough, his attire was definitely Ionian in origin, merely highlighted by the long ponytail that ran along his back. Syndra instantly spotted the platformed geta strapped around his feet.

It wasn't long before another closer inspection of his face made her eyes widen in recognition at who it was. She squinted to make sure. The man took another swig of his liquor, letting the light feature his profile. No doubt about it. It was who she thought it was.

Quickly she swiveled back to LeBlanc and Elise.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Oh? Why not, Syndie?" LeBlanc said, crooning.

"I just-...just look at-"

"My, my, there _is_ much too look at…"

"Quite proud that we found him, actually," Elise added in. "Brooding, handsome, and most fortunately for you, he's _Ionian_ too. Already some common ground. Not to mention his reputation with women."

"That's _exactly_ why. I refuse to sleep with a ronin. Filth, clogging up Ionia. They're just perfect examples of how pathetic a human can be without power, without proper order, or direction, or-"

" _Syndie._ " LeBlanc said sternly.

Syndra caught herself before she began ranting again.

"Sorry…" she said, clearing her throat. "But my point still stands. I refuse."

LeBlanc tsked, shaking her head. Elise gave her a grim frown.

"Mm...well, I don't think you'll have a choice in the matter anyway."

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is, I will do everything in my power to make sure that by the end of tonight, you _will_ be leaving this bar with that man named Yasuo. Or so help me gods, I will chain you to a bed and throw a man onto you," LeBlanc said, a purple twinkle sparking on the edge of her finger. And yes, Syndra could tell that she was being absolutely serious.

Syndra let out another resigned sigh, tossing another glance at the bar.

She knew what LeBlanc's doppelgangers were capable of. She knew that even now, as it sat there spinning small talk to the Ionian it sat next to, LeBlanc could turn that conversation that would be devastating for Syndra and her dignity. And she knew that, other than her pursuit for power, her pride was probably the most important thing in the world.

LeBlanc was right. Like it or not, she really didn't have a choice in the matter.

After shutting her eyes for a few moments, she opened them again with a glare.

"Fine."

LeBlanc smiled broadly, clapping her hands together, letting a small puff of gold dust flitter around her fingers for the effect.

"Oh good, good. I knew you'd come to your senses. You'll like him, I can feel it. Just trust your friends on this one, okay?"

Syndra gave them another glare, half-wanting to pout, half-wanting to say "whatever".

Her eyes trained themselves on Yasuo's back and she let out another sigh.

"You'll have fun, Syndie, don't worry. And trust me when I say this: it's for your own good."


	2. Chapter 2

Colorful yet mellow notes tumble from a keyboard. The tune is reflective, some notes holding before changing to a chord right before their welcome is outstayed. Nothing else interrupts the progression of the synthesized melody, as if the other elements of the song are standing in awe.

As the band kicked off their next set, Yasuo unceremoniously settled onto the barstool, geta clacking against the footrest.

His eyes looked tired but not downcast, his lips were firmly set but not frowning. By the time he set his elbows on the bar counter, with a few pneumatic hissing steps Rumble appeared before him, suited as usual with a tuxedo-donning miniature mech to match. His feet operated the mech while his hands were busy polishing a glass, padded fingers holding its base tight, a hand towel scrubbing its insides.

"What'll you be havin'?"

"I'll have a mojito," Yasuo said, cooly.

The blue yordle cocked a very conspicuous brow. He's worked the bar for several years at this point, and this was for sure the first time he's seen Yasuo here. For such an intense warrior, one that he's faced on the Fields of Justice many a time, he'd expected an order much more...becoming.

Yasuo winked.

"Something easy while the night is still young."

Maybe he'd seen too many champions get absolutely wasted during his hours, but as Rumble shrugged dismissively, a seed of surprise still lingered in his movements.

A seed that Yasuo noticed with a wry grin.

He was being truthful in his reasoning. He just wanted to unwind. He had a match during the day, but with the help of his assigned Summoner, the scuffle was a quick one, resulting in an overwhelming victory on his side. He spent the rest of the day meditating on his favorite grassy slope just outside the city of Runstaef, the Summoner's town in the center of the Institute.

By the time the sun had set well below the horizon, Yasuo's mind was clear, his body just as so. All he needed as he ventured back into the intricate corridors of the Institute was a masu of sake.

But alas, back in his quarters, Yasuo quickly discovered that his private store was diminished.

And so, here he was, sitting at the bar of the inner sanctum's Reflection Chamber, ordering a mojito. A drink that he had had only once during his travels, a small memory that he'd rather recall another time.

As Rumble shook and clinked his order behind him, Yasuo decided to take in the chamber itself. Swiveling on his stool with an elbow still on the counter, his eyes fell onto the stage.

The music was nice. Nothing familiar to him of course, but the improvised melodies and strange sound of synthesized chords were soothing in a way. His eyes shifted to the surrounding area. Even as a first-timer, he could tell tonight definitely was not a full house, but the considerable amount of patrons told him that it would be a fairly popular watering hole no matter the day of the week.

Hooded Summoners clumped together in booths and open tables, exchanging tales or poker chips or kisses. He could spot a few Champions as well, the amount of people surrounding them depending on their varying popularity and aura of menace. The walls of the Chamber itself were ornate. Carved from a kind of limestone, intricate designs slithered to the domed ceiling in small, continuous channels, diverting and interlacing to generate stone images and words. And, upon closer inspection, the images would move, most likely galvanized by some kind of runic magic.

The floors of the Chamber, however, were pristine. As if no shoe or dirtied boot could leave a mark. Every section of the Chamber was suspended by invisible supports. Below each section, visible waterworks softly trickled into streams and small canals that ran throughout the room. Each tiered section was connected by bronze stairways that were similarly suspended in midair. All of this, the stairs, the canals, the hovering segments of flooring, were centered around the stage that was in the middle of the Chamber. Like the tiered seating arrangements of an opera house, the segments would get higher and higher until the highest segments ended at the walls, beaten only by the private lounges that were hung above the entire Chamber itself.

The entire collection of floors, tables, and booths slowly rotated around the stage, each piece perfectly interlocking when need be or smoothly sliding past within a hair of an inch. Like some sort of gaudy, elaborate mobile.

"Here y'are," Rumble said behind Yasuo, tearing him away from his observations.

"Thank you," he nodded, taking the cold drink in his hand before turning back around again. He had seen many wonders during his wanderings and his never-ending search for justice. But the world the Summoners crafted here within the Institute of War...there wasn't anything else on Runeterra like it.

He took a sip of his drink, letting the cool mintiness of its bubbles coat his tongue before it painted his throat in a cold sizzle.

There.

With sake or with a mojito, a drink was what he needed to wrap up his day perfectly. Then, as a saxophone entered the fray, and the mounting melody of the band's keyboard ruptured, a grin finally found its way onto his lips.

The atmosphere seeped under his skin in the best way possible, and for one of the first times in his life since the Noxian invasion, Yasuo felt completely at ease. His days at the Institute, nearly all of them, minus the ones where the fights on the Fields of Justice were just a tad too strenuous, were like today.

He would put in his work, leaving some time for introspection, and maybe socializing a little before finally just unwinding for the night. Sometimes he might even bring home a woman who caught his eye. Nothing too binding, just someone to have some fun with.

And until now, that ease of his day-to-day life didn't make him more relaxed. In fact, for the few months he had been in the Institute, the lax nature of his schedule merely made him more vigilant. More tense. Sure, the Summoners had offered him asylum and security from any danger, any assailant that he had been avoiding for years.

But his instinct had always told him that when things seemed easy, when things seemed peaceful, _that_ was when they would strike the hardest.

After all, that was what his master taught him.

But now...taking another cool sip of his drink, easing up to let the Chamber's strange music wash over him, Yasuo finally accepted it. He accepted that here, in a place called the Institute of _War_ , he was safe.

He had been sitting in this place for a few minutes just soaking in the atmosphere. He couldn't even remember the last time this happened. He didn't for a second consider the exit routes to the room, nor the fact that at least 23 men and women in the room were armed, nor the multitude of environmental advantages should someone attack him. All he observed was how beautiful the architecture was and just how much the syncopathic strains were growing on him.

The epiphany almost made Yasuo laugh. Had a stick been stuck up his ass for that long?

Another sip.

Regardless of it all, tonight would be the night he would completely unwind. He closed his eyes for a moment and his toes tingled with the cool sensation of flowing water. In an instant Yasuo found himself back in the small valley where he and his brother would escape to.

The small streams of the Reflecting Chamber rose around him, channeling into a creek weaving through soft grassy patches and interlaced green of bamboo. The creek's source was a minute's walk following it northward, a pristine pool of glassy water with a faint bubbling in its center.

Yone, his brother, had found it. It was during their earlier years before they had fully dedicated their lives and their hours to the art of swordplay. Their training was rigorous, their schedules airtight. But during any day that they could, they would steal away to this hidden grove a few miles down the mountain from their temple.

Sometimes by themselves, sometimes with each other, sometimes with female company they'd pick up from the nearby village.

Yasuo looked at his feet. Even here, several meters away from the source, the water was clear enough to see the smooth, pebbly bed of the creek. He took a few steps inward, feeling that cool embrace rise all the way to his ankles. The sunlight that caught in the netting of the leaves above cast itself at an angle on the water, ricocheting in glittering sparkles. Small flickers of red would sometimes weave in between them-koi fish finding their way back to the main river.

And then, for a moment, Yasuo could see his face. Clean-shaven, bright, smiling. He wasn't washing himself hurriedly in that creek, running from the shadows pursuing his life, and the small flickers of red were still fish, not entrails and tendrils of blood. And most of all, the calm pulse in his heart was one of easygoing lightsomeoness, not one of stealth to avoid death at the hands of his former colleagues.

A sudden rustle from the brush behind him broke him of his reverie, but he didn't start; he was expecting this.

"What are you doing out there, you silly samurai?" a feminine voice called for him from the grassy bank.

He looked back. Another woman he had wooed from the village, young, and just as carefree. He had met her as she wove the silks of her mother's shops, their eyes had met a week ago as he made his way to the market. Two days after their first meeting, they had made love in her shop's attic, careful not to let her coquettish squeals reach her parents. She was new to these pleasures, and Yasuo made sure to be thorough in their lessons. There had been four so far.

Today, he didn't bother visiting her silk shop. But he knew that she would follow him, feeling her eyes on his back when he made a roundabout detour just past her shop without peering through the backdoor she always let him enter when her father was in the fields and her mother was out delivering garments. He knew she would follow him, her curiosity and desire would lead her on through the steep inclines of bamboo, brushing through the thicket to the pebbled path he and Yone had blazed during their younger years.

Sure enough, there she stood, her strings of ebony bundled in a bun behind her, yukata pink as her flushed cheeks. She had that dainty smile of hers that begged for a kiss, her fingers fiddling with the silk she wore. Her eyes, silver, gazed around, those lips that greeted him opening agape as she realized the secluded beauty of what she was led into.

"I was about to bathe, maybe you should join me." Yasuo said as his arms took off the cloth covering his chest.

His words instantly earned her eyes again, eyes that eagerly looked at his body, twinkling with that excitement that he loved. Wordlessly she grinned and kicked off her geta before her small feet slipped into the coolness of the stream. Her hand extended out to his and their fingers interlocked.

"It's beautiful out here, Yas…"

Her eyes were once again distracted by the golden sunrays streaming through the netting of bamboo leaves above her. Yasuo almost regretted bringing her to somewhere so beautiful, if it meant those silver eyes of hers weren't looking at him.

"Not as beautiful as you…" Yasuo started to kiss her neck, his voice lowering to a whisper. "My angel."

She giggled. Warding him off with a playful shove.

"Stop being so corny."

"Only if you stop calling yourself a naughty pony whenever we-"

She giggled again, blushing furiously as she silenced him with her lips. They kissed softly and languidly. Standing there, in the ankle-deep stream with her hands around his neck, Yasuo could feel the time stop.

Before their exchange intensified, Yasuo stopped, pulling back to look at the sparkle of her eyes. She unveiled them slowly, and he swore he could feel his heart dip at the sight of them.

"Shall we?"

She nodded eagerly.

With that, Yasuo led her upstream to the spring.

The pair let silence settle between them, allowing the faint swish of their wet footsteps, the chirping of starlings roosting in bamboo stalks, and the ever-growing soft rumble of subterranean bubbling to play intermittent songs for their ears.

Finally, they reached the cusp of the glassy pool. Unlike other springs, the water wasn't too hot, cooled by the silent flow of mountain water on its northern wall. It was perfect for a day like today, one that was humid, but not exactly hot.

He looked at the girl again and Yasuo could swear he could feel the stress of the past week roll off his back like droplets of dew on the edge of his blade.

He turned from her as he undid the knot holding up his trousers. He felt her eyes again, faintly hearing her hands begin to let her silk slip off her skin.

"I'm so lucky to have-" he heard her say, but her last words were interrupted with a sudden spurt of bubbles from the pool's center.

He turned to look at her again.

"What was that?"

"I said, what brings a man like you out to a place like this?"

The bass plucked a hazardous knocking of notes, eased by the long softness of the keyboard onstage. Yasuo opened his eyes and the water at the cusp of the spring receded back into the artificial streams below the bar. He looked to his left, just noticing the woman with seated next to him. She had a glass of whiskey that she slowly teased with a long-nailed finger.

Her hair was let loose around her pale face. Purple and flaxen, running down her back, some of it touching the uppermost crest of her cleavage. Her black dress lacked any cloth behind it, leaving her arms and skin on her back bare, all the way down to her rear. The bottom hem of the minxy piece was short, the right side completely lacking a hem at all, leaving the woman's thigh completely exposed. It was hard not to stare at that thigh as she crossed it over her left leg.

But even with the flashy gold choker, the amount of skin she exposed, and the breasts that spilled out towards him, it was her eyes that held Yasuo's almost complete attention.

They glowed dangerously, burning intensely into his.

For a moment, Yasuo felt a chill run down his spine.

"A...man like me?"

His heavy Ionian accent laced the baritone of his throat, but even this early in the conversation, he could tell that the woman liked it. She giggled. Her voice sounded older than she looked, but it...suited her, somehow.

"Don't play dumb with me, Yasuo. A samurai drinking a mojito instead of a plate of sake?"

"Good thing I'm not a samurai."

"But you were," the woman said.

Yasuo swiveled to face her completely now.

"Yes. And you are LeBlanc, yes? The Noxian cult leader?"

"Secret society, _please_ ," she said, waving him off a little dismissively. "Our dodgy pasts aside, you still haven't answered my question."

Yasuo took another sip of his drink. He peered over the glass at her eyes that seemed to read whatever he was going to say. Her body language was casual, yes, with a dash of seduction. But it was quite easy for him to see that he wasn't what she wanted (not that he'd _mind_ if she did; there was no denying however old or intimidating the woman was, she was beautiful and the perfect ending for the day would have been spent with a woman).

Finally, sensing that her motives, although secretive, were not too sinister or dangerous, Yasuo decided to play at her game.

"I ran out of sake."

LeBlanc took a sip of her own liquor with a smile. Yasuo noticed her lips were coated in violet.

"You're honest. I like that in a man."

"Might I pry and ask what else you like to see in a man?"

This made her giggle, breaking the eye contact for a split second as she looked him up and down.

"Well, for starters, a man who doesn't dress like he's going to bed."

Yasuo shrugged.

"It just makes it easier to take my garments off when I take a beautiful woman like you to bed with me."

Another giggle.

"Shame not all of the Ionian men I take home have the same pragmatic attitude."

"What can I say. In the presence of someone as gorgeous as you, I dislike dancing around what I want," Yasuo said with a grin he hadn't worn in quite a long time.

He knew LeBlanc wouldn't take the bait. He was laying it on thick and quick for a reason: he wanted to see what she was really here for.

"You flatter me, dear," LeBlanc said, trailing a finger over the hand Yasuo had on the counter. "but unfortunately, I'm afraid I am not...available for you to show me your pragmatism in practice."

Bingo.

He had backed her into a corner within the first few minutes of talking to her. But strangely, it's as if she wanted this to be the case.

Yasuo turned his body away from her to the bar. He caught the attention of Rumble, motioning wordlessly for a refill of his glass.

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Actually, it's not what I want in particular, but what a friend of mine needs."

"Is one of your friends a part of that funeral procession?" Yasuo said, head nodding towards the direction of the booth where Syndra, Elise, and LeBlanc's real body sat. He had noticed that he was speaking to her doppelganger when, for a millisecond, the finger that was stroking her glass became transparent.

"My, my, you are a sharp one."

Yasuo winked.

"Dodgy past."

A pneumatic hiss and a slide of glass over a wood counter, and Yasuo's hands gripped a new drink.

"And what exactly do 'needs of a friend' imply?" Yasuo said, turning his gaze at LeBlanc's eyes again.

She winked at him.

"That's for you to find out. Though with the way you handle yourself, I'm sure you'll find that her needs may surprisingly align with yours."

Yasuo snorted.

"A little presumptuous, but I think I can trust you."

"Good...because whatever happens, I'm sure you'll have fun."

"Is that a promise?

"In Noxus, we would call this a pinky swear."

LeBlanc (or her doppelganger, for that matter) raised her glass, a motion which Yasuo playfully mirrored as they both took a swig. She made the motion to stand up, but Yasuo's hand quickly grabbed her wrist. The action made LeBlanc turn to him inquisitively.

"Just because I think I can trust you doesn't mean I'm letting such a beautiful woman as yourself go without finishing your drink," Yasuo nodded towards the half-empty glass of whisky on her side of the counter.

LeBlanc followed his nod before turning to him and letting out a small chuckle.

"So you want to know more about our proposition."

"Yes...but I'm probably just using it as an excuse to keep talking to you."

"Keep talking like that, samurai, and I'll be half-tempted to take her place," LeBlanc said, biting her lip as she sat on her stool again.

Yasuo smiled. It was his turn to look her up and down without hiding his gaze.

"Maybe I will. Because I wouldn't mind to show you my...pragmatism."

LeBlanc took a sip of her whiskey, elongated how many drops passed her lips as her smiling eyes looked into his. She swallowed and set down the glass.

"You excite me, samurai. But again, I'm not available for you tonight."

"Because you want me to do with her what I want to do with you?"

A charged silence passed between them. LeBlanc crossed her legs, smiling as she fought the urge to bite her lip. She was tempted...oh-so-tempted to teach this naughty boy a lesson. Only a few minutes and he was already talking like this, looking at her like _that_.

Yes, she was tempted...but LeBlanc knew that this was the sort of man Syndra needed. Not her. LeBlanc could find another fun plaything anytime, but tonight was Syndra's night.

So, more than anything, for the sake of her friend, LeBlanc bit back a flirt that would have inevitably led to her nails digging into this man's back for hours on end.

"You're a sharp one. You lay it on thick, but you're perceptive."

"I don't beat around the bush. Never have."

"That'll get you in trouble someday, boy."

"Oh," Yasuo let out a short chuckle. "So it's 'boy' now?"

"You wouldn't want to see how I treat men."

"Shame I can't prove to you that I am one."

Back and forth, back and forth, juvenile banter with charged looks. But by the end of it, Yasuo had a firm grasp of what LeBlanc wanted. And he would be lying if he said it didn't excite him.

"Yes, well, now you've spoiled what I want you to do tonight."

Yasuo nodded, gazing at her breasts.

"Yes...I'm all for it." He took a sip of his mojito. "Shame it's not who _I_ wanted to do for tonight."

LeBlanc chuckled and stood, effectively tearing his gaze away from her chest. Her heels clacked twice and suddenly her lips were against his ear. Her breath was hot but nevertheless made the hairs of Yasuo's neck stand on end.

"You be a good boy for tonight...you show my friend a good time, show her what you've shown me, and maybe…" LeBlanc's hand stealthily slid up Yasuo's leg, smoothly going up his thigh. "Maybe I'll give you the chance to experience what I do to naughty little boys like you."

Her hand cupped his crotch. She made the motion to squeeze tight. Yasuo flinched, and within a fraction of a second, the hand, along with the rest of her body, splintered into thousands of glittering golden specks, flying and swirling into air.

" _Gods_ …" Yasuo said breathily under his breath.

He took a sip of his mojito again, feeling a very thick bead of sweat roll down his cheek. He couldn't help but let out a smile. Looking at the table to his right, he immediately found LeBlanc's sultry gaze. She raised her glass to him subtly, almost imperceptibly. He did the same back.

He turned back to the bar.

This little venturewasn't at all what he was expecting it to be, the spontaneity of LeBlanc's appearance coupled with the mystery of her proposal had him intrigued to the point of no return. It all just seemed so convenient; not long after his realization that he needed to cut loose, here was a chance for him to indulge in a little social adventure.

He knew the moment he turned back around that LeBlanc would send off her friend, whoever it was. At this point Yasuo was eager to see who would stride over to the empty barstool. He had Rumble prepare another mojito.

Yasuo acted cool, of course. Casual and maintaining that rough vibe he was known for. But from the corner of his eye he kept his attention trained on that particular booth where those snow-white, big-breasted, necromancer-looking women sat (he started to wonder if they even planned the matching black dresses or if they just wore black every day). He wondered what was taking so long. He wondered if LeBlanc was just lying to him, appropriately living up to her namesake and reputation. He wondered if it had been five minutes since LeBlanc had left him hot and bothered in his stool or if it had only been five seconds.

Then, finally, one of the women stood and began to stride over to the bar.

She was tall. Probably taller than LeBlanc.

The closer she got, the more Yasuo's grin grew firmer. From head to toe, the woman looked gorgeous. Though her dress was a little more modest in relative comparison to LeBlanc's skimpy piece, this woman's shimmered beautifully, tightly hugging all of her curves in the right places. The cloth cut off at her ankles, but there was a vertical slit on the left of the dress that stopped high up on her thigh, leaving her leg bare.

With every step, Yasuo appreciated more and more of her beauty. Her skin, from this distance, didn't look as pale as he first thought it to be. It had a fair complexion, one that had seen a little sun, teetering on the borderline of tanned. Her figure was developed and firm. A body with curves in all the right places, with muscle underneath it. She looked young; maybe just around his age, whether a year or two older or younger he couldn't tell.

But what caught Yasuo's side glance the most was her hair. Fair, white, and silken in a bun atop her head, it reminded him of-

He started.

Recognition suddenly struck him like a bolt. As the woman was only a few paces away, Yasuo finally knew why that small nagging feeling of familiarity tugged at him from the first glance he had at her: the friend that LeBlanc had sent over to him was none other than Syndra, the Dark Sovereign of Ionia.

He remembered how she would leave villages in ashes, billowing flames of black left in their wake. How sometimes he'd stumble upon a mountain turned into a pile of dust, with fearful monks telling him to avoid the fortress that floated nearby. Stories of a power that would have stopped the Noxian invasion with a single blow had it been harnessed by the right hands.

And now, the source of all that power was only a few steps away from him with a barely-repressed scowl that told him she did _not_ want to be here.

Yasuo turned his gaze completely away from her, deigning instead to hear the loud struts of her high heels _click click click_ into the stool next to his.

Then, the grin on his face grew wider.

LeBlanc was right. This _was_ going to be fun.


End file.
